


enough

by thetruthmon (jiminsstarss)



Category: Jung Hoseok - Fandom, Park Jimin - Fandom, j-hope - Fandom, 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Burnout - Freeform, Canon Compliant, Dancer Park Jimin (BTS), Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hoseok finds him collapsing, Hurt Park Jimin (BTS), Hurt/Comfort, Implied Mental Breakdown, Jimin is training, M/M, Sad with a Happy Ending, Soft Jung Hoseok | J-Hope, but it ends well I promise, emotionally devastated Jimin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-22
Updated: 2020-06-22
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:02:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24861997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jiminsstarss/pseuds/thetruthmon
Summary: When Jimin feels like he will never be enough, Hoseok finds out in the worst way possible and decides it's time to take care of him no matter what.
Relationships: Jung Hoseok | J-Hope/Park Jimin
Kudos: 38





	enough

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, quick note to give you a little advice: if you want things to get even more emotional, I recommend listening to Enough by Aisha Badru and Blackout by Freya Ridings while reading this short jihope!  
> Enjoy! ;)

His ankle was sore. He felt the atrocious pain climb up his calf, burning through his cramped muscles. It was overwhelming to the point he couldn't even hold back the tears.  
He clasped it, clenching his teeth, his lips suffocating a hoarse moan when the pain became even greater at the light touch of his fingers. He bent over his leg, breathing heavily, his throat swollen with the sobs he didn't allow himself to let go of.  
_Fuck_.  
His whole body was tense. Flames of burning pain made it impossible to even try to gently press on the injured part of his body. He was shaking violently, laying on the ground, only one thought in his mind, blank with the agony.  
_What now?  
_He couldn't _hide_ it. _  
_ His heartbeat had become so fast that it was almost unbearable. The panic he was trying to restrain was intolerable -he felt nauseous, his head was spinning, hot trails of tears stung his cheeks, falling on his neck, mingling with the drops of sweat that glowed on his reddened skin. _  
It can't be._ _  
_ He tried to slow down his breathing, but he made a mistake. When a sob escaped his parched throat, he raised his eyes -he found his own exhausted and terrified face staring back from the mirror.  
The boy in the glass was a mess. His eyes wet with tears, his skin red and sweaty, his soft lips ruined by the marks of his teeth, with some stains of blood making up for their paleness.  
_Fuck_.  
Had he really gotten to that point? Had he really practised until his legs were shaking, his arms were sore, his ankle couldn't bear his own weight? Had he really gone that far?  
But was it really too far?  
If it was, why even when he had _fallen to the fucking floor_ , when he was trying to muffle his cries in order to avoid being heard by the others, when the pain was so fucking unbearable, _why_ did he still feel that _wasn't enough_? Why was his heart beating that fast, why was that voice back in his head? Why was it pushing him, telling him to get up and start to _fucking_ dance? Why was he panicking at the thought of not being able to get back on his feet and practice again and again, until every single step would be _fucking perfect_?  
Jimin sunk his face in his oversized pullover, trying to erase the tears from his skin, his hands trembling violently. He took a deep breath, even if his lungs didn't seem to be functioning properly, even if the lump in his throat was getting bigger and bigger.  
_It's nothing. Get up. You can't stop._  
He coughed, ignoring the pain, pressing his hands on the wooden floor, trying to get up.  
He really thought he could do it.  
He got on his feet, a small glimpse of relief warmed his sore chest, a shy smile began to enlighten the lips of the blurry reflection in front of him. The pain, the weariness -he wasn't going to let them win.  
And then he slowly tried to put down the ankle, to have it bear his weight, and pain froze every single muscle in his body, and everything became black.  
He felt his body fall on the ground.  
His head hit the floor.  
He gasped for air while little yellow dots coloured the darkness around him and a million daggers tore his whole body apart.  
In the ravings of the moment, he felt like his ears had perceived a sort of muffled, confused sound.  
Was it someone?  
Why was the ceiling still black?  
Why did he feel like there was something pressing on his chest?  
Why was the voice in his head different than usual?  
What the fuck was it?  
Why did it sound worried?  
Then, the void.

He slowly came back to his senses after a few seconds. Even if his eyes were closed, he sensed a presence -a calming, reassuring presence next to him.  
There was a kernel of truth in his last rambling thoughts. There was someone anxiously calling his name indeed.  
_Jimin_.  
How different was his voice. How loving, how worried it sounded. Nothing like the evil voice only he could hear, in his head. The voice that had pushed him over the edge.  
Now he could _see_ it.  
How wrong he had been, to have let that fucking voice win.  
Now he could see it, because the pain, the concern he sensed in _his_ voice was heart-breaking.  
_Jimin_.  
A gentle touch on his forehead made him shiver. His lips parted and Jimin felt the sweet pressure slide through his hair, caressing the side of his head. His cheeks were still stinging because of the tears he had shed, his whole body ached, his ankle more than anything else. It was probably strained.  
_Jimin-ah, please open your eyes._  
He didn't want to see the fear in his eyes. He didn't want to see the disappointment in his frown. And he wanted to see the bitter compassion, the atrocious guilt in his expression even less than that.  
_Please_.  
But his voice was so heart-breaking.  
So panicked.  
Jimin felt his hand reach the back of his head, his fingers grab gently his neck.  
_Jimin-ah!_  
He couldn't pretend he was still unconscious. His heart ached at the sound of the scare in his voice, it ached even more when he felt the other hand press on his chest, above his heart. A sigh of relief accompanied the gesture, when the strong, fast heartbeat warned him that wasn't the problem.  
Jimin opened his eyes, slowly.  
Hoseok's face was above him, a little blurred, his eyes widened with anxiety and fear.  
As soon as he saw his glance, he sighed even more heavily and stirred so that he could rest his head on his arm, his body weighing on his leg.   
Jimin was sure it wasn't that comfortable of a position and he wanted to say something, but he suddenly realised other tears were streaming down his face. Again.  
_Oh. That's why everything is hazy.  
Fuck_.  
\- Jimin-ah - his voice cracked.  
Was he crying as well? Jimin heard it. Yes. He was.  
\- Why? - such a simple word with such a complex answer.  
How could he tell him?  
How could he tell _him_?  
He couldn't.  
Jimin closed his eyes, his lips stretched in a pale line, almost as pale as his skin now. But even if he tried, he couldn't stop hearing Hoseok's sobs while his arms grasped him, holding him so tight that he almost couldn't breathe. That hurt as hell.  
\- Are you out of your mind? What do you think I thought, hearing that horrible bump, running here only to find you laying as still as death on the fucking floor?  
Rage. Yes. That was better. He could take rage.  
\- I thought you had a heart attack or worse! As pale as you were! I thought you were fucking dead!  
No. That, he couldn't take.  
Hoseok gasped for air, trying to calm down. He sounded so desperate. So scared. So vulnerable. His fingers had left red marks on Jimin's shoulder, his leg had gone numb under his body.  
\- You, why were you still here in the first place? After so many hours? Why the fuck were you still dancing? Why didn't you stop?  
Jimin wanted to hug him more than anything. He wanted to hold him tight, press his head on his own shoulder, press a gentle kiss on his temple. Hoseok was frantic. And the fault was his and his only. And that voice's. Hoseok didn't deserve to feel like that.  
\- Please, please, Jimin-ah. I can't see you like this. Let me understand. Give me a chance. I can't stand seeing you like this. What's the problem? Tell me.  
Jimin hid his face behind the sleeve, trying to stop crying. He needed to get his shit together. Hoseok's hold got even tighter, to the point it hurt. _It fucking hurt_ , having his hands squeeze his body like that, but he deserved that pain.  
\- Do I need to threaten you? I will, Jimin-ah. I will do anything to get you to tell me what's wrong. Don't dare doubt that. Don't.  
Hoseok grabbed his hand, shoved it away from his face. He pressed his palm on his cheek, wiping away the teardrops that wet his skin, in the gentlest way possible. The complete opposite of his words.   
Jimin opened his eyes again. This time he could see his face better. Dark bags under his eyes, water dripping off his nose.  
\- I'm not enough - at the sound of his raspy, weak voice his hyung widened his eyes. A mix of emotions appeared on his face for half a second: anger, concern, confusion, guilt, shock.  
\- What the fuck are you blabbering?  
Then Jimin found himself almost suffocating in his hug, shrinking between his arms. His knee was painfully stinging his back. But he didn't complain.  
Jimin pressed his face against his chest, wrapping his arms around Hoseok's trembling body. Hiding against him, engulfed in that hug, he finally let it out. He fucking let _all_ out, the pain burning deep inside him, poisoning his chest, killing his mind.  
\- I'm not _enough_ , hyung! I'm the weakest among you all! I'm not as good of a vocalist as the others, I'm not as good looking as them, I'm not as good as _you_ at dancing! I'm not enough, I need to do more and more and I can't stop! I can't stop or I will _never be enough_ \- he was shouting, he was crying, he was sobbing and shaking and raving and he was hurt and sad and desperate.  
\- I can't stop, hyung, or I won't be _worth it_ \- he sobbed, and Hoseok shook his head, cradling that delicate soul into his arms, feeling as helpless as never before, his heart shattered in a million pieces.  
\- And is it worth it to overwork yourself to this point? Is it worth it to get as hurt, as exhausted as you are now? Do you see yourself? Do you see how broken you are? Do you think behaving like this will take you places? Do you genuinely think there will be something left of you, after you will have collapsed? Do you think there will be something that will be _worth it_? Let me tell you: no. No, because there will be nothing but pain. You really can't see how good you are, good at _everything_ you put your efforts into -be it singing, be it dancing, be it being one of the greatest people we all have ever met. Who takes care of us, who makes us smile, who encourages us when we are feeling down or sad or upset? Who only ever has compliments and sweet words for us? Who? Who steals the scene with his breath-taking steps and vocals? Who the fuck can do that and a hundred, fuck no, a million things more, Jimin-ah, if not you?  
Jimin felt Hoseok weaken his hug. His hands gently cupped his distressed, swollen face, his brown and warm eyes sparkling with love and decision. Jimin could only stare into that sweet gaze, overwhelmed and shook to his core by those words, while he felt his heart melt.  
\- But you know, you don't need to worry about that. From now on, you won't have to. Now I know. From now on, I'll be with you. We all will be.  
And then, in that instant, in the silence that had fallen, while air filled his lungs, while hope filled his heart, Jimin noticed.  
The voice lingering in the back of his mind.  
It was finally gone.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you to my lovely friend who always encourages me to give the best I can. love you sksk.


End file.
